


Grains of Sand in the Hourglass

by Starshearted (cthulhucorp)



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Background Crush, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Gen, Gods, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, LOOK SO R T O F, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Swearing, Unrequited Crush, Violent Thoughts, eibon has a very unrequited crush and it shows my guy, rated t for lord death, sorta??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 18:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11537628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cthulhucorp/pseuds/Starshearted
Summary: Death was never suited to be a father.Asura was never suited to be anything more than a failure.





	Grains of Sand in the Hourglass

**Author's Note:**

> This is... a little oddly written? I don't know how to explain it. Basically, I told canon to fuck itself and wrote this.  
> also immediately in the beginning of the prologue i pull some good ol' purple prose shit and compare Eibons eyes to Tsavorite. google it. It's a gem and its fucking GREEN, my guy.

The process of creating a soul was so ungodly exhausting. Shallow breaths coming out as heavy pants between incoherent mumbles. The god of Death ran a hand through his own curled hair, sitting on the ground beside the stone bed. Beside the drained god stood Eibon, though his gaze was hidden behind an add mask it remained trained on the little creature laying on the aforementioned stone bed.

 

“It's alive, Death,” the man muttered, muffled, through his mask.

 

“It shall die shortly,” came the rushed response. Eibon merely stared, eyes narrowed, at the wirthing... THING. It couldn't be called human, thoughs its vessel were of the species, and it certainly couldn't be called a reaper. As soon as Death had placed the soul- Less of a soul and more like an amalgamate of fear- inside of the tiny body, it had twisted. Deformed and broke, almost. But not quite- No, always 'not quite'. According to Death, it should have shattered. Something akin to a glass mirror, Eibon had expected. But no- Instead, lay a creature of three eyes. The third eye opened unlike the other two, staring blank towards the moonlit sky, the pine tree forestline above. Blind, perhaps. Most likely so. Though the deformity was there, blatant and scarring, nothing else had shown through the pale human skin. Normal breaths caused the rise and fall of the creatures chest, eyeballs twitching behind closed eyes. It looked to be asleep, if anything.

 

“I don't think it is, Death.”

 

“It will die, Eibon,” he responded harshly.

 

“Death,” the wizard breathed, turning his gaze instead to his so-called friend. Death rose from the ground slowly, towering over Eibon. “It's not dying, Death.”

 

“It has to!”

 

A gloved hand reached up, settling itself on the gods shoulders. Death rested his hands on the edge of the stone bed, scarlet eyes staring down intently. Waiting, watching, waiting. It's then that the creature truly stirs, and Eibon watches as, with the very first cry, Death seems to shatter within himself. Pale hands that shake rise from the table, and the wizard watches as the god of Death begins to seethe, enchanting red eyes that glare daggers at the small creature. A hand like wolves claws raises in threat and Eibon finds himself reaching out, grasping the offending wrist with a sense of urgency.

 

“Death, you must calm yourself.”

 

“It can't live, Eibon! It must _**fucking**_ die!”

 

“I understand that, I am neither deaf nor incompetent, despite what you seem to think! Now get a hold on yourself, you imbecile!”

 

Death halts at that, frozen like a statue. Scarlet eyes stare into eyes like mined tsavorite, both angered and frustrated in their own degrees. Eibon for Death's foolish decision. Death for Eibon's stopping him from shattering the infantile skull beneath his grasp. The wizard, wisdom incarnate, inhales a deep breath and exhales slowly, closing his eyes and dragging Deaths offending hand down to the stone table, his own hand laying atop the pale hand of Death, cold and soft. The god of Death of silent for a change, his own thoughts thrumming about as his other hand rests at his side.

 

The man standing beside him clears his throat, though whether he gains death attention or not, he is unaware. “Death,” Eibon tries once more, gently removing his own hand from his companions. “I understand that you are frustrated-”

 

“It goes far beyond frustrated,” the other god begins to seethe, though he is cut short by Eibon's hasty interruption.

 

“I know. I know, Death. However, please take a moment to truly think about the situation at hand,” he pauses then, looking to see if he has the other's full attention. Though Death's head is lowered in defeat he catches a glimpse of glowing red in the shadow that haunts his face. “You have put a potentionally shinigami soul into a human body- And it survived!” He moves, placing a hand on Death's upper arm. “This has potential to be another warlord! Perhaps something of an entirely different calibur!” Death fails to come off as convinced, and Eibon finds himself shifting closer to the elder of the two, wrapping his own arm around Deaths in a manner much too friendly. “If you wish, I shall be the one to train it. But such potential shouldn't be wasted, aye?” The reaper, stubborn, turns his head away. “Right, Death?” Eibon tries once more.

 

“...You will be the one to take care of the damn thing,” the god finally speaks, standing up straight. In doing so he towers over his wizardly companion, who untangles his arm and takes a half-step to the side. Death turns on his heel, crossing his arms across his chest and sliding his mask back into position over his face. “You will raise it, not I. I want nothing to do with the cursed creature- Do you understand, Eibon? It is your responsibility.”

 

Eibon, hastily, nods his agreement, clasping his hands in front of him. A smile graces his features for a moment, though it falters ever so slightly as Death steps away, walking out of the circle of carved stones and into the darkness of the woods. The being of wisdom glanced over his shoulder to the now-calm infant laying on the stone table, still like frozen waters. He turns, reaching out and gently pulling the child close to his chest. “Come, little... _Asura_. We've much to do.”

 


End file.
